Little Chick
by DetectiveInspectorSydney
Summary: Helena Ravenclaw contemplates what it is to be an adult.


**A/N: Prompt: Rook: Write from the perspective of someone other than a student who lives in Hogwarts: a ghost, a house elf, a teacher, a portrait, the Sorting Hat, etc.**

 **Additional Prompts:**

 **3) (word) freedom**

 **8) (colour) steel grey**

 **12) (word) desire**

 **This fic is 986 words.**

The steel grey seam of my cloak strokes the ground as I walk towards the forest. It is midnight-freezing-November. There is no good reason for me to be outside, except my need to escape.

I have not been a student at Hogwarts for two years. Given that I, unlike the rest of my classmates, have lived at the school my entire life, one would think that it was time for me to spread my proverbial wings and fly. I am a Ravenclaw, afterall. Surely I deserve the taste of freedom friends of mine, like the Baron, gotten. As students, my friends went home to see their families periodically. My only family lived within those great stone walls. What possible need could I have that could not be met by Hogwarts? Everything I needed to know could be supplied by books. The library's collection is among some of the largest in the magical world. Mother could never afford to spend her time or energy on anything that wasn't the school, her own projects, or me. And now that I am old enough to decide for myself what I want and need out of life; I remain stuck here.

Is it loyalty to my mother that keeps me? My mother, who has given me everything. My mother, who has sacrificed an impossible amount to assure that I was always as healthy as possible, happy, and provided for. Certainly I was not always happy, as I got older, maybe not even often. Certainly I was not always healthy, but Rowena was human, and I was not always an easy child. " _If you would just follow my instructions the first time, if you would just do as you are told, if you would just do your work and stop complaining, if you would stop asking questions_ -" I fight back tears now as I make my way along the shore of the lake, lit wand tip blazing the trail ahead.

Mother always supported a curious mind. But she was a busy woman, an impatient woman. " _And there are things that you are too young to understand, that's something you should go discover for yourself, that's why there was a library. Honestly, Helena I do not have to time to explain it to you again-"_ I have often felt that my existence was an obstacle in my mother's path to greater intellectual prowess.

It is obvious that my mother doesn't need me. Loyalty or not, I am inconsequential. Maybe I am scared? Maybe the thought of leaving the only home I have ever known and trying to create my own adult life, particularly when I am reminded so often that I am " _not as clever as my mother, nowhere near as responsible as my mother, simply unable to fend for myself-"_ Maybe I am too afraid to try to leave. The tears stream down my face and my breathing is ragged.

My heart's desire is to find my place in the world. I made it to the end of my school career. I was not permitted to take a trip around the world, as mother took ill, and needed me to nurse her, but I have read about the places my classmates visited in books, and in their letters. I am not as naive as I appear, and I am just as qualified as any other Hogwarts graduate (and more so than some). I have a right to self-determination.

Yet I cannot break the cycle. How am I supposed to confront my mother? How am I to explain to her that I wanted to live my own life now, that I don't want to continue under the expectation that if mother asks, I will obey without question. I wanted autonomy, but how can I insist upon it? Mother has always tried her utmost to preserve her version of peace. This means that she never let me fail, but often didn't let me try either. How am I supposed to stand up for my right to self-determination and a freedom of choice if neither my mother nor I have to confidence in me to believe that I will use that choice wisely.

And herein lies the crux of it all. I am the daughter of one of the wisest women in the world, but I am not believed to possess that wisdom myself. I am not trusted. I am not trusted by friends, my mother, or even myself to be as capable as she is. I am not even trusted to be capable. I am babied. But I welcome the babying, because I am afraid of my life without it. I cannot fully imagine an autonomous future. It is too abstract, and too foreign, and I am too frightened.

I have come to the edge of the forest now, but I cannot go in. There are dangerous monsters, and it is too dark, even by wand light, to venture in. I know that escapade is drawing to a close, and I must return to my cloistered existence. As much as I profess to desire independence, I know in my heart that I am, as yet, too weak to truly seek it. I am not brave like Uncle Godric, I am obedient.

I turn my back on the forest, and make my way back to the castle. It's walls looming over me. Tomorrow I will retreat to the library, until I am called away to help a student, or a teacher with a project. I am useful, and I do what is asked, even when I would much rather pursue my own flights of fancy. I push open the gigantic oak doors. I do not bother to close them gently behind me.

I continue to mull over my short comings while I toss and turn in my bed chamber through the early hours of the morning. Ravenclaw the Docile, they will someday call me. The little chick has come home to roost.


End file.
